Potholes Mark the Pavement Songtext
von Quiet Commotion

Tripping over bottles filled with gold flake paint
I feel bad at least I still feel sane
Guess my bright paint is starting to crack
Please stop laughing I want to go home
Seeing videos you took sent to my phone
Now what′s that supposed to make me feel?
So I sit here thinking feeling insecure
Mocking court jester can't find a cure
Hope you′ll better soon
This ailment has been killing you
Summer's way too soon
I hope I'll get out of my room


Potholes on this old suburban road
Every year they try to patch them up
Eroded by rolling steel boxes
Keeps us coming back to fill those in
Hope you′ll better soon
This ailment has been killing you
Hope I′ll change someday
I thought I was content with me
Hope I'll better soon
I′m never coming out my room
The door is open
Though I know you won't come by no more